


the map of ages

by mellyflori



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dirty Talk, I'm not kidding about the dirty talk guys, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, The Author Regrets Nothing, and it got real filthy, both have enthusiastically consented to the dirty talk, if that's not your jam now is the time to leave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:56:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26726299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellyflori/pseuds/mellyflori
Summary: It isn’t until Nicky calls him ’sweetheart’ that Joe realizes he’s in the shit.Five thousand words of pure, indulgent smut, hanging delicately from a sweetly domestic framing device. With some dirty talk, just for flavor.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 94
Kudos: 722





	the map of ages

**Author's Note:**

> Cee has been fighting the good fight, while also putting in overtime as my Emotional Support Asshole. In fandom, we say 'I love you' with gifts of filth and dirty talk. Special thanks to the post that's crossed my dash a few times about the inherent hilarity of using romantic pet names when you're pissed off (I went to link it but it wasn't in my likes. grrrr). Much appreciation for the inspiration behind the opening bits.
> 
> (If anyone's unsure about anything that might be in this and wants to ping me for details before reading, grab me on tumblr. Info's in the end notes.)

Your love taught me how love

changes the map of ages

taught me that when I love

the world stops turning

-Nizar Qabbani

~

It isn’t until Nicky calls him ’sweetheart’ that Joe realizes he’s in the shit.

They’ve been home for a little over a week, and it’s everything they’ve been dreaming about for months. In the middle of a job, sitting for the tenth hour in an observation perch, or listening to the eighteenth hour of surveillance audio, one of them will turn to the other and sigh. That’s all it takes; they both know what it means. 

It means they wish they were finished with the job, that they could escape to this little house for weeks and weeks alone together, and now they have.

The studio is Joe’s second favorite thing about it. His favorite thing in the house is Nicky. That’s his favorite thing in any house. Everything else is a distant second, but this studio is a slightly less distant second than the rest. Not long after they bought the place, he and Nicky had worked together to install skylights in this room and to put in larger windows. It gets so much light, and he loves that about it.

He loves the way the floor feels under his feet, like every minute of the sanding and refinishing they’d done had been worth it. The first time Joe steps in here whenever they’re home is like seeing it again for the first time. It’s been sunny for days, Joe has an idea in his head that won’t let go, and for the first time in a few years, he has the time to spare while the muse is still with him.

“Babe,” Nicky says on their second day. “Lunch?”

Joe flashes a smile at him. “Absolutely.” It’s a lovely lunch, lovely getting to sit next to Nicky on the sofa and eat while they trade stories. 

“It’s a good day for a nap in the sun,” Nicky says.

Joe kisses his head. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” He heads back to the studio; there’s a thing he wants to try in that one corner of the piece.

The fourth day, Nicky shuffles in, sleepy and soft, just after midnight. “Heart of my heart, are you coming to bed? The light is gone.”

“I am, baby. I’m just finishing this one part.” 

Nicky waits for a few minutes before he shuffles back out. 

When Joe gets to bed, he kisses Nicky awake and fucks him slow and easy, both of them drifting off shortly after. Nicky makes him breakfast in the morning, and Joe takes it with a grateful kiss.

"I love you,” he says as he heads into the studio.

It’s their fifth day home; Joe has finished the bones of the piece and is working on some details. Nicky is standing in the door of the studio, arms crossed over his chest. “How long do you anticipate this piece taking, light of my life?” 

Joe entirely misses the slight pinch in Nicky’s tone.

“I don’t know, not much longer, I hope. Everything seems to be coming fairly easily.”

“That’s nice to hear. I always love seeing you create beautiful art. Will you be joining me tonight?” 

“Are you after a replay of this morning? Because I’m not sure the neighbors would appreciate it.” He winks at Nicky.

“No, not for—No.” 

“I’ll definitely be out for dinner.”

“I love you,” Nicky says, kissing his cheek.

Joe hums, happy. “I love you, too.”

“Sweetheart.”

It’s not a question. That’s not a good sign. Joe tries to calculate how long they’ve been home, and he finds he’s not entirely sure. 

“Yes?”

Nicky’s hip cocks as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “How long do you think you’ve been in here today, my love?” Oh, that’s not a good tone.

“Four hours?”

“Ten. And how long do you think you were in here yesterday?”

“Ten hours?”

“Twelve.”

“Have I been doing that all week?”

The pinched look slides off Nicky’s face. “I don’t want to keep you from your art; I love that you feel inspired and able to create. Only, I miss you, and we come here to be together."

“And I’ve been having a tryst with my easel?”

Nicky’s smile is small but sincere. “I hope not, that’s a good way to get a splinter somewhere unfortunate.” 

Joe can’t help but laugh. “I love you. Let me clean these brushes, and then I’ll make it up to you, yeah?”

“No rush. Dinner’s ready, I can bring it in here if you’d like? You can tell me about this new piece.”

“What can I ever do to deserve you?”

“Hush.” Nicky cups his face, kissing him soft and quick.

When the brushes are clean, Joe shakes out a drop cloth like a picnic blanket and helps Nicky with the food. 

“You spoil me, Nico.”

Nicky hums, happy, and kisses him. “I like to.”

“Later, I'm going spoil you in return.” 

Setting the dishes carefully on the floor, Nicky looks up at him. “I’m sure you will.”

Dinner is fantastic, and if Joe didn’t have other plans for the night, he’d have polished off the leftovers and happily spent a few hours on the sofa, feeling stuffed and happy.

They spend the whole time talking. Joe tells Nicky about the painting he’s working on, about what he thinks he wants to work on next. Nicky says he’s been exploring the area around the house and looking into what languages he still has to learn. There are stories and wistful sighs for places that will never exist again and times that are gone forever. 

Nicky has some recipes he wants to try, and Joe talks about how he can help, what tasks he’ll be able to do. “I love watching you cook; it’s sexier than I can possibly describe.”

When dinner is over, Joe moves the dishes and glasses off the drop cloth, lining them against the wall. He moves the candles too, putting them under his stool where they’re well out of the way.

“The first time I saw you cook for me, we were in Damascus.”

“I remember.”

“You were kneading dough, you had flour in the hairs on your arms, and I could see all the muscles moving in your shoulders. Even with your tunic on, I could still see them shifting.”

Joe drops, so he’s sitting next to Nicky on the cloth; leaning forward, he kisses the curve of Nicky’s lower lip. “My mouth went completely dry, did I tell you that?”

He did. He’s told this story so many times, Nicky could tell it himself, even if he hadn’t been in the room when it happened. Nicky tilts his head anyway, giving Joe a look of curiosity.

“It did. My palms started to sweat. I had been looking at you for years by then, Nicolò, in so many different kinds of places, and I’d found you desirable in all of them. I found myself always wanting you, but with that dough? You ruined me forever.”

Taking Nicky’s hand, Joe kisses the pad of each finger, scraping his teeth over a few of them. He bites the muscle at the base of Nicky’s thumb.

“Do you know that I love you?”

“Yes,” Nicky laughs.

“Do you know that in a thousand years, I have loved no one else the way I love you?”

Nicky’s breath catches. “Yes,” he whispers.

Joe leans in, sliding his mouth across Nicky’s kissing him. Again, this time he kisses the bow of Nicky’s upper lip. 

“Did you know your mouth is perfect?”

Another kiss, this one slick, dirty, Nicky’s mouth opening under Joe’s like a secret told. Nicky moans, and Joe can feel it on his tongue. His fingers dig into Nicky’s ribs, clutching him close. There is more kissing, Joe urging Nicky onto his back, trying to pour every ounce of his love into them, as if such a thing were ever possible.

“Not a day goes by that I don’t want you. I’ve ached for you in more cities than I can count. There are places gone from this earth that I only remember because that’s the first place I realized I wanted your mouth, or that hearing you cry out my name was a kind of poem.”

Nicky pulls him close again, kisses him, empties his heart into those kisses. 

“My heart, Nicolò, what can I do? What would you like?”

His body rolling under Joe’s, Nicky says, “I thought I wanted your mouth, but if I have that, you won’t be talking anymore.”

“And you like my voice.”

“I like the way you talk to me.”

“My love, a man of books and letters, and such a refined taste for filth.” Nicky squirms. “I love to hear you, too. If I talk to you while you have my fingers, will you sing for me, Nicolò?”

They’re seldom anywhere that they have the freedom to talk, to be loud and make noise. The others would likely tolerate it on occasion, but then they’d have to offer the same courtesy in kind, and Joe’s not sure he wants to hear Nile getting fucked. Ever.

Tonight, though, in this house, in this little room? Well, there’s no one around for miles. 

“Strip,” Joe says. “I like to see what I’m working with.” 

“Such an asshole,” Nicky laughs as he tugs off his jeans and his shirt. With Nicky occupied, Joe is rooting around in the compartments of his paint table, feeling for the tube that isn’t shaped quite like the others. This isn’t the first time they’ve done this in here. Ah, there it is, and mostly full, too. Perfect. He tucks it down the front of his pants to warm up.

“For a while, in the beginning, I thought you might be a demon sent to tempt me.” Joe bends, kissing Nicky, nosing under his jaw to kiss at the soft skin of his neck. He smells incredible; he always does. “I thought I would be able to resist, until the first time I saw you bathing in the river. After that, I feared that I was lost because I knew I would give you anything you asked for if only I were allowed to look at you like that again. Water streaming from your skin, the sun in your hair, naked and perfect.”

Joe trails two fingers up the inside of Nicky’s right thigh. “What I didn’t realize then, is that you could never be a demon, because if you were, you’d be unmoved by my touches, and you’d never make those hungry little sounds I love so much.” Curling his fingers, Joe drags his fingernails back down Nicky’s leg. 

Nicky automatically tries to clamp down on the noise, but Joe takes him by the chin. He brings their foreheads together, and with their mouths so close he’s almost whispering into Nicky’s breath, Joe says, “Please, I want to hear.” He sucks hard, raising a fleeting, livid bruise on Nicky’s collar bone, just to hear what his reaction.

The sound he makes is guttural and raw; it’s something pulled up from his thickening cock and given voice. Joe _loves_ that sound. 

“The first time I heard that? That’s when I knew I’d ruined you forever, too.”

Any marks Joe is making with his nails will fade as fast as the bruise, but he knows the skin will stay sensitive for a while, and that’s what he wants. For every inch of Nicky’s skin to hum for his touch like a tuning fork. 

“You looked up at me, and I could see in your eyes what it was doing to you. I’d never wanted anyone to fuck me so much in all my life.”

Joe scrapes the thick callus of one thumb over Nicky’s belly, watching it twitch as he gasps. On another night, he might make Nicky beg for what he wants next, but not tonight. After the last few days? After his endless patience? Nicky begs for nothing tonight. 

The way Nicky’s back arches, the way he hisses and whines at the drag of Joe’s thumb over his nipple, puts every canvas in this room to shame. Nicky says he wants more, so that’s what Nicky gets, over and over, until his back is almost entirely off the floor. When Joe scratches his thumbnails over both at once, Nicky shouts something that might be Joe’s name, but not in a language either of them has spoken for centuries. 

Draping himself along the length of Nicky’s body, one thigh between Nicky’s legs, Joe bends and kisses him some more. There’s something powerful about the way Nicky kisses when he’s this hungry for touch, filthy and wet, sucking at Joe’s neck, his lips, the line of his jaw, even through the beard. 

“I want to see how close you can get without me touching your cock. Is that something you’d like?”

“Yes. Yes, yes, fuck! Yusuf, yes.”

Joe rolls off to one side just as Nicky’s hips curl up, trying to rub himself against Joe’s thigh. He slides two fingers into Nicky’s mouth, feeling him suck them, lick at the places where centuries of swords and guns and paintbrushes have made them rough. Nicky shudders, and Joe knows just what he wants, he knows what kind of night this is, and he can’t wait. They haven’t been able to play in this way for too long.

“Did you know that you, riding my fingers, is one of my favorite sights in the world, Nicolò? All the beauty we’ve seen, and none of it can compare to how your face looks when I’m stretching you.” Nicky whines, sucking harder. 

Joe strokes Nicky’s tongue. “I have something for later, but you know I love my fingers to be slick from your mouth the first time I touch you.” Nicky nods as best he can with half of Joe’s hand in his mouth. “But Nicky,” Joe speaks right into Nicky’s ear. There’s no one to hear them, but he knows that sometimes Nicky likes the truly filthy words whispered just like this.

“Nicky.” He kisses the spot behind Nicky’s ear. “How am I supposed to get my fingers into your greedy little hole if you don’t spread your legs?”

His ears pink, a moan in his throat, Nicky rolls his head against the drop cloth, Joe’s fingers slipping free, trailing a ribbon back to Nicky’s mouth.

The first time Nicky had told Joe that there wasn’t anything he could say that was so dirty it would drive Nicky from his bed, Joe hadn’t believed him. “It’s how you say it. I can hear how you love me in each word. Knowing you treasure me whether I’m prim or spread wide and begging, it feels so good. People punish each other for wanting things that hurt no-one or for enjoying their own bodies, but not you. Not here.” Joe had kissed him. “It’s also true that you could tell me I’m beautiful and have it hurt me like a stab if I couldn’t hear your heart in it.” 

Thanking Nicky for putting into words something that Joe had been struggling with for a couple of decades, he’d kissed Nicky senseless and taken him to bed for three days straight. 

Centuries later, on the floor in this studio, Joe knows they’ve already tested all of these boundaries and found where the limits are. And if the limits have changed for this night, Nicky can let him know that, too. For now, he’ll make sure that Nicky can always hear the love because it’s always there.

With that honest need, Joe loves so much, Nicky’s knees fall open, legs as wide as they’ll go. 

“Very good, thank you, my love.” Joe puts his thumb against a spot just behind Nicky’s balls and rubs his two spit-slick fingers over Nicky’s hole. “It’s so hard to believe that this could ever stretch as much as we know it can.” With a little more pressure, Joe’s rubbing turns to dragging. Nicky rolls his hips and gasps. “That’s why I say it’s greedy, Nicky. At first, it’s too tight to take even these two fingers, but we both know that with enough time and patience, my whole hand will slip in, won’t it?”

Nicky nods, frantic, and Joe can see sweat beginning to bead on Nicky’s forehead. That’s not a thing they often do, Joe can probably count the times on both hands still, and it’s been more than 900 years. They won’t tonight either, but he knows the memory will play behind Nicky’s closed yes. Usually, it’s an issue of time and patience. They often get too keyed up during the preparation and decide to fuck instead, which is glorious itself. When they have the patience, though? Joe thinks about the trust Nicky puts in him, and it makes his throat feel tight.

“I know you like this, and I don’t want to rush you. This is for you, my Nico. So you tell me when you want more, yes?”

“Yes.” Nicky’s nodding again. “I will.”

“More of this right now? Just like this?”

“Yessss. Oh, fuck.”

Nicky’s fully hard now, and each time he rolls his hips into Joe’s touch, his cock sways. Joe’s mouth is watering with the urge to suck, but he’s gotten what he wanted all week. He can wait for this.

Still singing a chorus of “Oh,” and “yes,” and sounds that are less than words but more than beautiful, Nicky is pushing himself onto Joe’s fingers, wanting that press, but knowing that there’s nowhere near enough slickness left for them to slip inside. 

“I love this song of yours, my heart. It makes me so hard.”

Nicky gasps again. “More now. I want more now.”

The lube is warm from Joe’s skin as he dribbles it over his fingers. He leaves the tube on the drop cloth by his hand, knowing they’ll need more later. 

“I love how you need this, how you’re not ashamed to need it. Not ashamed to love it. And love that I’m the one who gets to give this to you.” When he presses his lube-slick fingers to Nicky’s hole, he can feel the last traces of puffiness from the earlier scrape of his calluses. He did that. He’s the one Nicky falls apart for. “I almost want to start with just one.” 

Nicky’s eyes open, and he looks straight at Joe, who can’t help but laugh. “Daggers, Nicky. You’re staring actual daggers at me. Don’t worry,” he says, dipping his head low, getting close enough to Nicky’s ear that Nicky’s braced himself for something properly dirty. “I know that with needy holes like yours, I don’t have to go easy at first, do I?”

What comes from Nicky’s mouth can only be called a wail. It’s loud and long, and it sounds so good Joe’s toes curl. 

The first few times they did this, talked like this, Joe worried he’d gone overboard. Despite what Nicky had said, even though some of the words he’d spoken had been ones Nicky specifically scripted for him, Joe worried. He knows better now. This is just another thing he likes, another thing they both like. Sometimes it goes the other way, Nicky bending Joe over the back of the couch and pulling out his own dirty arsenal. They spend so much of their sex life these days being quiet, subdued, often nearly furtive, that sometimes it’s good to let loose when they can.

Joe answers Nicky’s wail by pushing those two fingers in, slow and steady. “There you are. Opening for me like you always do, so sweet. Some nights Nicky wants him to stop just inside, but he’s betting tonight isn’t one of those nights. It’s a chance he’s willing to take. All the tension drains from Nickys’ face, his mouth goes slack with pleasure, and he groans. There it is, Joe thinks.

He almost doesn’t have to move his hand. The way Nicky’s hips won’t stop rolling, he’s almost fucking himself onto Joe’s fingers.

“Look at this, Nicolò. I have knit my soul to an approved wanton.” Nicky goes still, staring daggers at him again.

“Really? Right now? This is a choice you want to make?” 

There was no way Joe was ever going to be able to hold in the laugh that bursts out of him.

“Apologies, my love. I will stop bringing old friends into our bed without permission. How can I make it up to you, my heart?”

Nicky tilts his face up for a kiss, and a kiss is what he gets. “I’ll let you know,” he says.

Joe crooks his fingers and hears Nicky’s gasp. “You do that.” He tries to pin Nicky down a little with one leg, just to calm some of the writhing. He wants to do something but doesn’t want to brush against Nicky’s cock accidentally

“You have color clear up to your chin, light of my life. I can see you flushed with pleasure, and I’m so proud to do that for you. That pretty cock of yours is flushed too, so hard. Do you know that you’re dripping on yourself?” He rubs his nose along Nicky’s cheekbone. “You want this so much you’ve leaked a little puddle of slick onto your skin.” Licking the sweat from Nicky’s temple, Joe says, “Does it taste as good as it always does when you weep with wanting me? Hmm?” 

Another kiss behind Nicky’s ear. “The problem, Nicolò, is that both of my arms are occupied. My love, why don’t you bring me some to taste?”

Nicky drags two fingers through the drips under the head of his cock and holds them up. When Joe drops his mouth open, Nicky puts his fingers against Joe’s tongue. Dropping his eyes closed, Joe sighs. 

“Perfect,” Joe says.

“Show me” is Nicky’s answer. 

The only answer to that is to kiss him. Joe slips his tongue against Nicky’s, knowing he’ll be able to taste himself, knowing he’ll love that. Nicky hums, hot and pleased, into Joe’s mouth. Just as he does, Joe rocks his fingers in again and feels Nicky suck the gasp from his lips. 

“More of the same?” he asks, and Nicky nods. Who knows how long they stay like that, Joe watching Nicky’s face, kissing Nicky’s moans from his mouth as he pushes in over and over. It might have been hours, except that at some point, Joe moves his thumb down to trace the rim as his fingers push in again, and Nicky clenches up, his cock jerking, slapping against his belly. 

“Give me another,” Nicky says. “I need—“

“Yes, you do.” Joe stacks his fingers together, trying to make the first push one that tapers out wide. Nicky is silent for a second, his breath held, then exhales as a groan. “Oh, Nicolò, listen to you. I love that sound almost as much as I love hearing you say what you want. Every time you do that, it goes straight to my cock.”

“It’s so good,” Nicky says. “Yusuf. Feels so good.”

“You do love the first stretch, don’t you? Love that feeling like it’s something new every time, even after all these years. What I love is the sound you make when I do. This,” he says as he twists his wrist, his thumb still sliding along the rim of Nicky’s hole. 

His teeth clenched together, head bowed back, Nicky is moaning high and loud, gasping for every bump of Joe’s knuckles inside him. 

“The most beautiful of songs,” Joe says, ducking his head to kiss the arching length of Nicky’s throat. He puts his teeth across the width of Nicky’s windpipe; he doesn’t bite down; it’s not for dominance. It’s because when he does this, he can feel Nicky’s moans as they leave his throat, pushing up and out like they’re being driven up by the curling thrust of Joe’s fingers in Nicky’s ass. “This is what I wanted, to hear you like this, and see you lost to these feelings and riding my hand. Do you know what seeing you like this does to me, Nicolò? Do you know that seeing you fall apart under my hands makes me feel like every death for a thousand years has been worth it if it brought me here with you?”

Nicky nods because, of course, he knows.

“You want so badly for something, anything to touch your desperate, neglected cock right now, don’t you?

“Fuck! Yes, you know I do.”

“Do you want _me_ to touch it?”

Nick thinks for a second then shakes his head. “No, not yet. I like this.”

“The longer you want to draw it out, the longer I get to spend looking at you like this.” His gaze sweeps down the length of Nicky’s body. “Spread open, fucking yourself onto my fingers, making all those perfect, needy sounds. I’m going to hear those noises of yours in my dreams, Nicky. Going to be able to feel the ghost of you, so fucking tight around my fingers, even when you’re nowhere near.”

“Faster. Fuck! I need—Faster, love.”

Nicky is rocking his hips up as much as he can, trying to speed Joe’s movements along, and each time he does, his cock slaps wetly against his skin, leaving trails from the head to his belly. 

“This fast?” Joe asks, speeding up almost imperceptibly. It’s a taunt, he knows, but he fucking loves hearing Nicky’s voice get low as he tells Joe precisely what to do.

“Fucking—I love you, my heart, but I will murder you in your sleep if you don’t—just, fucking faster!”

For any other couple, that would be an idle threat, but Nicky and Joe have each slept with a sword within arm’s reach for nine hundred years. Then again, this is his Nicky, the other half of his soul; Joe knows Nicky almost better than Nicky knows himself. He’s at least sixty percent sure Nicky’s not serious.

Pleased to hear that edge of demand in Nicky’s voice, Joe gives him what he wants, speeding up, making each thrust sharper.

Nicky cries out, and some of that sound might be ‘Yes!’ Some other part might be, ‘Fuck!’ 

“Like that?” 

“Yes. Yes, Like that, Yusuf. Just like that.” He grits his teeth, rolling his head against the drop cloth. 

“Do you remember the first time I did this for you until you came just like this, nothing but air gripping your poor, aching cock?”

Nicky’s “Yes,” is half-growl.

“I was so glad we were out in the desert, where I could listen to you calling out my name. Do you want that tonight?”

“No. Not—Just. A little more, then give me your mouth.”

It’s everything Joe can do not to grind himself against Nicky’s leg, fucking against him, chasing every bit of friction he can’t get until he spills in his pants like a teenager.

“So many years, Nicolò, but you still want to see me, my mouth stretched around you when you come. As hungry for the taste of you as I was when this was new for us.”

“Close,” Nicky says. “So close!” He’s got a fist full of the drop cloth bunched in his free hand. With the other, he’s clutching at Joe’s shoulder, digging his short, blunt nails into the curve of skin and muscle.

Knowing he likely won’t get another chance for this tonight, Joe bends and says to the curve of Nicky’s jaw, “You know how much I love that. I don’t even have to touch myself when I’m sucking you. I can feel my cock, hard and leaking, just waiting for the heat of you spilling on my tongue.”

Nicky holds out another minute or two, Joe saying every lovely, dirty thing he can think of to keep Nicky listening to him. He tells Nicky how beautiful he is, says he loves the way Nicky cries out for him, calls them both the filthiest of names, all with the edges rounded off by how much love is behind every word.

“Fuuuuck, yes. I love hearing you talk,” Nicky says, his voice getting high and breathy. “Give it to me. Now, Yusuf. Now. I need to feel you sucking as I come.”

“Anything, Nicolò. Anything.” Joe bends to take the head of Nicky’s cock between his lips, sliding it along the length of his tongue.

Nicky shouts, the noise punched out of him by the feeling of Joe’s wet, hungry mouth around him. Joe can’t hold in a groan of his own, feeling Nicky’s cock drag over his lips, feeling it pulse against his tongue as Nicky comes, still calling Joe’s name.

Of all the sounds Nicky’s made tonight, this is Joe’s favorite, he thinks.

He changes his mind seconds later. As soon as Joe has finished swallowing everything Nicky gives him, Nicky pulls him off, tilting his face up until Joe is looking at him. “I need to feel you, need to watch you come, my Yusuf. He traces his finger down the middle of his chest, “Here.”

Joe sits up, shoving his pants down to his knees as he kneels between Nicky’s thighs. Arching over Nicky, bracing himself on one arm, he looks down into Nicky’s eyes. “Nicolò,” he whispers. 

“Stroke yourself for me.”

They both watch as Joe’s fingers, still slick with lube, wrap around his cock. Nicky stares, eyes wide, as Joe strokes himself exactly as fast as his fingers were fucking into Nicky. 

Joe’s forehead is tight, his mouth slack; he’s still watching himself, still listening to Nicky’s breath coming fast and hard.

“Now,” Nicky says.

Utterly silent, for the first time all evening, Joe watches as his come stripes Nicky’s chest, the last of it dripping from his fingers to pool on Nicky’s belly.

He drops his head until it’s resting against Nicky’s, listening to them breathing together. 

“The mouth on you,” Nicky says again, dragging his fingers through the mess Joe’s left on him.

“You love my mouth.” Joe kisses him, feeling Nicky lick the taste of himself from Joe’s tongue.

When he finally drops to the floor beside Nicky, Joe kisses his shoulder and the side of his neck. “I love being here with you.” Another kiss, this time to Nicky’s temple. “We should go to the market tomorrow, make something nice for ourselves for lunch, and have a proper picnic outside.”

“I like that plan.” Nicky’s half asleep already, not even protesting as Joe drags a corner of the drop cloth over to wipe Nicky as clean as he can.

“Afterward, I can come paint for a couple of hours.”

“Yes,” Nicky says, dropping a drowsy kiss on Joe’s mouth. “Afterward.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I can be found on the tumbls as [werebearbearbar](http://werebearbearbar.tumblr.com). Come say hi. I don't say 'cock' nearly as much in everyday conversation as I do in fic. (I say 'fuck' even more, though.)


End file.
